Tribune Brimstone
by bertrum123
Summary: The Commander attempts to find solace in the night, and finds more than he expected. Set within the Path of Fire story; first person perspective, the eye of the charr Commander. One Off.


Context: Guild Wars 2: Path of Fire.  
Location: A tavern in the Bonestrand - Desolation.

Blurb: This is a short passage fleshing out of the Path of Fire story. It contains **spoilers** if you haven't played the entire thing, be warned. Basically, the story itself is well constructed, even if it lacks refined pacing at times. But its major drawback is the lack of definition. This has been a severe issue for me for some time, there is no clear cut line between races; you are the Commander, and the Commander banner is all you get. No racial differences, dialogue nuance; nothing, beyond one inconsequential line of dialogue near the beginning of the expansion. And that nuance is what made the original three chapters of Tyria's story line endlessly enthralling for me. I was a charr, and I got to experience the charr way of life for a brief period. I constructed this passage to better define the relationship that Rytlock would likely have with the Commander at this stage, given they were a charr, with slight head cannon differences for fun, having had them met when the Commander was young.

* * *

A cautious breeze flowed, carrying a delicate dust of the restless desert through the night. Its scent was alluring, filled with an exotic aroma, yet marred by the ever-present sense of hostility. Unsettling. I crept back into our current lodgings, intent on reattempting sleep. But as I began to ascend the creaking wooden stairs, a small amount of ambient light caught my eye - a dim twinkle. Interested, I retraced three steps, and heard the sharp whack of glass connecting with wood. I stalked toward an entryway, peering through the gloom.

Rytlock Brimstone was sitting atop a bar stool, a glass and bottle sitting adjacent, both filled with a hazel-coloured liquid. My eyes widened - things weren't entirely usual. A shift in my breathing let slip my location to keen ears; I perceived their twitch.

Hoping I could be mistaken for the wind, I backed away, one prudent step at a time.

"It's rude to spy, you know, _Commander_." I frowned - he had caught me.

Sheepishly stepping out of the darkness, I wandered over, my tail between my legs.

"You know, for Blood, you have ears an Ash would be jealous of," I grumbled, standing just beyond the light's flickering grasp.

"Desertgrave used to whine about it all the time," he grinned, barely turning his gaze from the bar. He twirled the glass in his hand, causing the ice to ting and clang, before taking a sip. "Mm, that's the good stuff..." For the first time he turned to face me. "Couldn't sleep, cub?" I shook my head, smiling sadly.

"Not a wink. Came to get some air."

"And you found more than you bargained for, eh?" he winked, leaning back against the wooden counter; crossing one leg over the other.

I couldn't help but chuckle. Rytlock Brimstone, Blood Legion Tribune, was currently naked. His armour was strewn around, discarded near the bar. "Too hot for armour. Sometimes a charr's gotta kick back."

I eyed him - this was the first time I had seen Rytlock bereft of his armour, and while I had witnessed the finely tuned muscles lining his upper arms, the rest of him was a sight to behold; equally cared for. He was handsome, especially in accommodating light.

"So, are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna join me?" he asked, holding up his glass. Denying my tribune was unaffordable to me. "These Elonian humans know their whiskey." I hesitantly nodded, casting the idea of sleep away.

He pulled up a stool, patting it warmly. It struck me as unusual, but it was unclear how much alcohol Rytlock had consumed.

I sat down, and he similarly patted my back. "'Atta boy... Sit with old Rytlock, and melt your troubles away."

"Thanks..." I mumbled, reaching for an empty glass. He immediately half filled it with the same whiskey he was indulging in. "You sure these humans won't dislike you pillaging their stores?" I asked, my eyebrows raised.

"We're saving their butts from a deranged fire god, a little bit of liquor isn't much to ask for the service," Rytlock grumbled, downing the remainder of his cup. "Go on, try it."

I eyed the swirling liquid, and its scent captivated me. "Heh... all right, Tribune. But only because you told me to." I took a swig, and he growled in approval. Suddenly the whole room felt lighter. The liquid held noticeable heat, embellished with a favourable kick; the weight of my burden was somewhat alleviated.

"You always were an obedient one - liked that about you since you were a cub," he complimented. I grinned, it still felt an honour to receive praise from him. Old habits.

"Sir."

We clanged our glasses together, two charr simply forgetting their woes in a bar.

"Shame these gods and dragons can't pipe down long enough for us to crush Kryta... I'd love to have you by my side," he said. The statement caught me off-guard - it wasn't something charr generally discussed, given the current state of affairs. But unbridled honesty remained difficult to quell in the face of alcohol.

"It would be odd, at this point... given my history with the humans." I sighed. "But, dare I say I'd relish the chance myself." He chuckled - a gruff, emboldening noise.

"That can stay between you and me, Commander. Don't you worry." I nodded, staring into my glass, before taking another drink. "Now, then... why don't you tell me what's on your mind?" he asked, a concerned look dawning in his features. "You aren't eating much, you can't sleep - I know things are rough, but this isn't like you."

"You noticed..?" I asked, running my hand through my hair. I suddenly felt his warm paw on my free hand.

"I care, cub... I care about you - I notice these things because I do. The others are wrapped up in their own thoughts, but mine are clear as day. I've been around the block; experienced all this before. And I can see there's something wrong." The alcohol had definitely taken its course - the Tribune rarely voiced awareness of such... vulnerability.

"...I died, Rytlock... But... it's more than that. I failed - Vlast is dead; Balthazar's seemingly too strong. I... I'm not sure I can do this."

"Eh... Commander." We locked eyes. "If I were sober, I would probably punch you. Tell you to get a grip, soldier to soldier..." he paused, squeezing my hand. "But I'm not. So prepare for anything here."

I chuckled, my eyes glistening with tears. "Growing up, I never had any moment of weakness. No hesitation - I was so driven; I wanted to be just like you: Rytlock Brimstone, the charr who fought dragons. Now I'm here, and it's... it's so hard..."

"It's that difficulty that makes us who we are, cub... We're the only ones for the job - we can't fail, so we won't. _You_ won't. And I will be right beside you, cracking Balthazar's skull. This is my mess, and I _will_ help you fix it."

"But what then? We need to stop these dragons, and killing them will cause catastrophe. Kralkatorrik is on the rise, and who knows when Primordus and Jormag will resurface. Every time we fix something, somewhere else breaks; a ticking time bomb goes off. And I am _so_ tired..." I paused, burying my head in my hands. "I used to live for this, because it seemed like we were always winning. And now, the second things have gotten difficult, I feel like a failure. I was always taught to never show weakness, yet it's tearing me apart..!"

A sudden warmth surrounded me, and I realised another anomaly had occurred - Rytlock was hugging me. Something he hadn't done since I was a child. He pulled me closer, onto his warm chest, letting my face rest against his shoulder.

"It's okay, cub... I'm here."

I relaxed, falling forward in sudden disarray, but his strong arms halted my momentum. He cradled me, carrying me to the comfiest looking couch, and falling back into it. "Ooft... heavier than when you were a whelp, that's for sure." I sighed a laugh, remembering him spinning me around. In many ways he had been like a father to me - even now.

"I feel pathetic... letting you carry me."

"Heh, don't worry. I wanted to carry you - wouldn't matter if you wanted me to or not."

He rubbed my silk adorned back, as I leaned into him. "Now, let me explain something important to you," he said, his lips brushing past my ear.

"As charr, it is our solemn duty to win the war. It's in our blood. But sometimes failure is required in order to learn how to best tackle the next battle - you don't always need to win the day. Now, I admit, you dying and coming back is a new one... that really scared the heck outta me, seeing you limp..."

He held me closer, in a tight embrace. "But, the concept stays the same. You grew from that experience; I know you did. I saw it, when you rose up - fire in your eyes. You needn't be strong _all_ of the time. You need to be a beacon of strength in the most dire times. That is what people rely on; that is why you are the Commander, because you give us that hope. But here, right now, let it go. It's okay to be upset, but use it to fuel your resolve; don't let it consume you.

I will always be here when you need me... I'm pretty unapproachable without a stiff drink in me, so maybe offer up tribute first. But I'll try to be less grumpy, if it would make you feel better."

I buried my face into his chest, hiding my shame. "I'd... I'd like that, sir-... Rytlock. Thank you for your words - they've been meaningful."

"Heh... no problem, kid. Like I said, I care about you. We all do. But you're closer to me than any other charr, that's for sure."

What a compliment - it made my heart race. I stuck my tongue out in pure happiness for a moment, before I remembered Rytlock was bare, and my tongue had just connected with his chest. I froze. A gruff, chilling laughter filled my ears.

"Careful, now, cub. I can get pretty frisky while drunk." I blushed, not knowing how to respond.

"Was an accident... sorry," I growled, averting my eyes.

"Apologies are unnecessary, just don't ever try that while I'm sober. It won't end well."

"Understood."

For some time our conversation continued, inevitably pertaining to my childhood, as Rytlock reminisced; the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest lulling me all the while. And for the first time in weeks, I slipped into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
